


The Supermarket

by pasteloblivion



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alcohol Mentions, M/M, grocery store fluff, hell yeah, i love domestic whizzvin, i thought it was kinda cute tbh, jason!!, marvin sucks at driving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15405435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasteloblivion/pseuds/pasteloblivion
Summary: In which Whizzer and Marvin take Jason grocery shopping, and fluff ensues.





	The Supermarket

It’s another sultry midsummer evening, the time of day when muted sunlight casts shadows on trees and residential homes alike. Marvin’s car is doused with light in shades of apricot and tangerine as it sputters past several neighborhoods and cul-de-sacs. The radio emits a soft tune, something vintage and largely instrumental. The carload listens with little interest as each note fades into the warm breeze, a collective sigh filling the air. Fifteen minutes in this sweltering vehicle, and they’ve yet to reach their destination. In the back seat, Marvin’s son speaks exclusively in the form of whiny, prepubescent complaints.

“Are we there yet?” Jason groans, tapping the button to roll the window down. He watches the stream of only vaguely familiar buildings pass by.

From the passenger seat, Whizzer shakes his head. “Not quite, kiddo. But wait just a few more minutes, and we will be.” He nudges his partner. “Isn’t that right, Marv?”

Marvin only hums in response, giving his undivided attention to reaching their destination without causing an accident. He’s always been an awful driver, especially at times when the busy New York streets are crowded with tourists and taxis, and today isn’t an exception. He makes a particularly sharp left turn, and for a brief second the entire carload can feel the oncoming threat of motion sickness. It passes sooner than it arrives, but leaves his lover temporarily shaken.

“Fuck!” Whizzer hisses, clutching the door handle. He suddenly remembers his stepson’s presence and cringes, hastily correcting his language. Another pause, and he turns to face Marvin. “Sweetheart, did you ever actually learn how to drive, or did you find your license in a box of Cheerios and immediately decide to terrorize the road?”

Before Marvin can justify the terrible turn, Jason rolls his eyes, unphased by the incident. The topic shifts almost instantly. “Why are we even going to the grocery store?” 

“Well, Charlotte and Cordelia invited your father and I for dinner tomorrow night, and we wanted to bring an appetizer to thank--” Whizzer starts, but is interrupted by another loud groan.

“I know that, but why am I coming? My mom is picking me up tomorrow, it’s not like I’m going to that dinner with you!”

A frown settles as Whizzer combs a set of fingers through his hair. “Jason, it’s just the grocery store, and yet you’re acting like it’s hell. Is there a reason you hate it so much?”

“It’s boring!” the ten-year-old scoffs. “My dad somehow always manages to act like a control freak when buying groceries. And besides, it’s kinda hard to enjoy yourself when he’s constantly yapping about sticking to the shopping list and making the trip as quick as possible.”

Whizzer glances at Marvin, half-expecting to see him glaring, but his eyes haven’t left the traffic-heavy streets since they boarded the vehicle. He grins, albeit to himself, due to the fact that his stepson actually has a point. Shopping with Marvin, the man who insists on trying to use expired coupons, speaking to the manager, and avoiding any sort of input from others, is a type of headache that not many individuals are equipped to deal with. He refuses to buy the foods that his son enjoys, for the most part, sticking instead with nothing but lists of healthy foods. Whizzer loves his partner, but in addition to being perhaps the worst driver in the state of New York, he’s also one of the worst shoppers. God, the poor kid must be miserable when he goes to the store alone with his father.

He turns backwards, attempting to look Jason in the eye. “Believe me, I know how your father can be. I once heard him complain for five minutes straight that all the grapes in the store were too sour, and how he wanted to contact their produce provider to give them a piece of his mind.” Whizzer pauses as his stepson laughs, a warm feeling in his chest. He cares deeply for both members of this family, and intends to help. “But I’m way more fun to shop with, I swear. I won’t let your father be… well, y’know.”

“Really?” Jason’s voice becomes somewhat hopeful, as though the very idea of shopping with Whizzer is a blessing sent from above. 

A wide smile. “Absolutely, Jason.”

After a moment or two, Whizzer realizes that Marvin might be listening. Though they’re simply teasing and mean nothing by it, he’d rather not unintentionally offend him. So, he checks. Like a ball ricocheting between two different surfaces, his attention reverts back to Marvin with both speed and precision. A hand traces its way to his lover’s upper thigh, and doesn’t retract for what feels like hours. “You didn’t hear any of that, did you, honey?”

From the driver’s seat comes another scoff, and Marvin speaks for the first time since touching the steering wheel. “I’m a little busy with trying not to run over a pedestrian, dear.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you! Let’s try to avoid a criminal record for today, hm?”

He watches the corner of Marvin’s lips twitch upwards, halfway grinning. “No promises.”

\---

Several minutes and two nearly-catastrophic right turns later, they manage to reach the supermarket without any licenses being revoked. As Marvin picks out a shopping cart, grumbling something about squeaky wheels and unclean handles, Whizzer attempts to hide the mischievous smile that threatens to give his plan away. Other than complaining about Marvin’s unused turn signals, he’d devoted the rest of the car ride to forming ideas about how to make the trip more bearable, many of which were bound to embarrass his partner and thrill his stepson. He shoots the ten-year-old a wink and takes the cart from Marvin, only shrugging in response when his partner raises an eyebrow. He’s determined to make the trip fun for all three members of the family, even if it means indulging in childish behavior for an hour or so. 

“Why don’t I steer the cart today, honey?” he says as a smile inevitably finds its way to his face yet again. Oh, well. He’s never been great with keeping a poker face, much less when around the people he loves most.

“But why? You never push it,” is all that Marvin replies with.

Whizzer takes this as an agreement, but still provides a half-hearted explanation. “It’s a nice change of pace, I guess. And Jason,” he says, extending a hand. “I know you’re too old for the toddler seat, but want me to push you around in cart?”

A missing front tooth is revealed in his smile as Jason’s face lights up. “Yeah!”

Marvin exhales, watching as Whizzer picks up his son without difficulty and swiftly places him in the cart. Truthfully, he’s a little confused. He hasn’t let Jason sit in a shopping cart since he was five, always insisting that he was old enough to walk next to his father. He never thought it was such a big deal, but based on his son’s all-too-happy reaction, could he be wrong about that? But more importantly, why does his partner have that look on his face? “Whiz, what the hell are you--”

But before the question leaves his mouth, Whizzer is already speeding away, cart in tow. The taller man speeds through aisles upon aisles of produce and other foods, careful not to collide with customers who give him questioning glares. He ignores their annoyance, choosing to focus on keeping his family joyous. Bouts of Jason’s delighted laughter fill the area, the sound mixing with passing conversations and Marvin’s hurried footsteps as he catches up. They eventually come to a stop in the baked goods aisle, and Whizzer can’t help but smirk as his partner stares.

“Christ, what was that?” Marvin pants, breathing heavily. His tone isn’t angry, but sits on the fence between confusion and exhaustion. His gaze scatters across their surroundings, taking in the countless boxes of brownies and cakes. “And what are we doing here? I wrote a list, remember? We’re just buying ingredients for that pasta salad I was talking about.”

“I figured that we could let Jason pick out a treat or something, honey,” Whizzer says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He notices how Jason nods in agreement from his seat in the cart, watching the exchange between his fathers with interest.

Marvin shakes his head, frowning. “Like I said, we’re only here for what’s on the list, Whiz. But more importantly, was it necessary for you to do that by running through the store at full speed? You couldn’t have just, I don’t know, asked me instead?”

“Chances are, you would’ve said no,” the taller man replies, leaning against the handle. “And I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but is it possible to avoid the list for once?”

Another questioning stare. “Why would we avoid the list? It’s here to help!”

“Honey, there’s no nice way to say this, but…” Whizzer trails off, unsure of how to express the fact that his partner is a control freak. “Jason and I think that you’re almost as bad at grocery shopping as you are at driving, y’know?”

A look of faux offense crosses Marvin’s features, but Whizzer detects a lack of sincerity in the expression. If anything, Marvin isn’t hurt, he’s just somewhat confused. “Wait, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Jason finally speaks up. “For starters, you only make lists of what you what. Where’s the fun in that, dad?”

“God, what’s the deal with this sudden vendetta against shopping lists?”

“I think what Jason means to say, honey, is that you tend to ignore the foods that others want. I’ve seen it before. The whole ordeal simply boils down to the fact that you won’t let anyone else add or subtract from the list, and only buy the foods that you think are best.”

Marvin’s eyes widen, as if he’s shocked by this revelation. “Shit, do I really do that?”

“Yeah! All the freaking time, too!” Jason says, ignoring his father’s foul language.

“I still don’t see how the list--” he begins once more.

Whizzer shuffles away from the cart, leaning in towards his partner’s ear. In a hushed tone, he whispers the most convincing proposition he can muster up. “Honey, I know you’re still gonna want to follow that godforsaken list, but if you put it away and let Jason pick out a snack or two, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Marvin steps back, knees buckling slightly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Whizzer nods, smirking once again, and Marvin’s attitude practically flips.

He faces his son, trying not to show how excited he suddenly is. “Alright, kid, I’ll let you pick out one thing from this aisle, but that’s it.”

“Wait, really? Thanks, dad! Whizzer, what’d you say to him?” Jason queries, climbing out of the cart and racing towards a box of brownies.

“I-I, uh…” Whizzer clams up. The promise he implied to his lover certainly wasn’t meant for young ears, and it’s Marvin who comes to the rescue as Whizzer racks his brain for any sort of appropriate response. 

“He told me that I was being an asshole and should just listen to him.”

Whizzer laughs, thankful for the save. “Well, I said it nicer, but sure.”

“Whatever,” Jason says brightly, already occupied with sifting through a row of brightly colored packages. 

The rest of their shopping experience passes by without a hitch. When they’re done in the dessert section, with Jason ultimately opting for a simple box of chocolate chip cookies, Whizzer allows Marvin lead them to into the aisles that they need ingredients from. He keeps Jason entertained by telling stories from his childhood, mostly referring to his experience with high school baseball and how excruciating it was at the time. 

“Seriously, my coach was awful!” he says, hands held dramatically in the air to emphasize his point. “He’d make us run ten laps around the track before every practice, and if we couldn’t do it, he’d threaten to attack us with his baseball bat.”

Jason laughs. “He was joking though, right?”

“Honestly, we couldn’t tell. To this day, I still wonder how the school didn’t fire him.”

Marvin then emerges from the aisle, three boxes of uncooked pasta in his hands. “Lord, are you talking about that coach again?”  
“Hey, it’s a good story and you know it!” Whizzer defends, burying his face into Marvin’s shoulder.

“Not sure if I’d agree,” the shorter man replies, and Whizzer can feel the distinct clamoring of his heart rate. The boxes are dumped into the cart with an unceremonious thud. “Okay, that’s everything we need for the pasta salad. Anything else?”

A hopeful thrum fills Whizzer’s voice. “How about a bottle of wine?”

“We have plenty of booze at home,” Marvin counters. If there’s one thing his partner loves, it’s the occasional drink, and the collection of bottles in their pantry does more than enough to prove it. “Do we really need more?”

An indignant scoff. “That’s not wine. We have beer, a quart or two of vodka, some tequila, even a bottle of champagne… but no wine!”

“What’s the difference?” Jason queries, looking up from the hoard of ingredients that surrounds his spot in the cart. “Between the types of alcohol, I mean.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Marvin sighs, just as Whizzer begins to describe the wonderful world of drinking in great detail. “Well, Jason, the biggest differences are price, taste, and alcohol by volume. Most taste pretty terrible unless combined with chasers like juice or soda, but wine isn’t so bad. But if you’re just looking for effect, rather than taste, then you’d probably want to drink something with a huge alcohol by volume, like--”

“Whiz!” Marvin hisses, hastily clamping a hand on his partner’s lips. “Stop poisoning the ten-year-old with rants about drinking. We don’t need a prepubescent alcoholic in the family!”

A loud laugh as Whizzer forcibly removes Marvin’s hand. “Aw, sweetheart, Jason’s way too smart to drink before he’s twenty-one. He knows the dangers, don’t you, kiddo?”

Jason nods earnestly. “Yeah! Alcohol is… life ruining, I guess. I could, uh, get in a car accident, or say something really embarrassing in front of a cute girl, or puke my guts out.”  
“Not exactly the dangers I had in mind, but he gets it!” Whizzer ruffles his stepson’s hair, followed by an outraged groan from the child. “So, how about it?”

“God, you’re impossible,” Marvin says, containing the laughter that’s building in his throat.

“C’mon, sweetheart, just one bottle?”

“Last time I checked, we have at least ten bottles in the pantry.”

Whizzer readjusts his position on Marvin’s shoulder. He looks around, noticing that the aisle they’re in is practically desolate, and an idea appears. “Please, honey?”

“No.”

He kisses Marvin’s neck once, twice, three times. “Please?”

Marvin averts his eyes, hyperfocusing on the closest item he can see. Those cherry tomatoes look pretty appetizing, maybe he should buy a container to bring to dinner tomorrow. “Jesus, Whiz, we’re in public! Are you really doing this?”

“Mhm.” The kisses trail upwards, reaching his upper jaw.

“Whizzer, we’re gonna get kicked out!” Marvin’s knees go weak, and he suppresses a sigh. 

Another kiss, and Whizzer’s mouth reaches Marvin’s chin. “Who cares?”

Before Marvin can think of a new objection to use, Jason’s disgusted exclamation fills the aisle. “Eugh, you guys are gross!”

Whizzer’s lips trail upwards, finding Marvin’s bottom lips. “Kid, you should probably look the other way,” he says, keeping contact with his partner. He assumes that his directions are taken to heart, because his stepson’s protests eventually fall silent and distracted humming takes its place.

“Whizzer…” Marvin can hardly focus on his own speech, just the sensation of Whizzer’s lips finally meeting his own in full. The couple stays like this for what feels like hours, Marvin’s fingers combing through his partner’s hair. It’s the epitome of bliss; in this moment, all that exists is the two of them, together as one. The aisle fades into nothing as their eyes close. So many months together, and yet both find themselves in awe with every passionate kiss such as this, as though it’s still their very first. In a way, it makes the world feel right.

After what turns out to be only a minute or so, Whizzer breaks their kiss. Leaning back, he admires the soft shade of pink that Marvin’s cheeks have adopted, a sign that his idea worked. “So, about that wine…”

Still flustered, Marvin exhales. “Christ, you’re the worst.”

“You know you love it!” Whizzer exclaims, already grabbing the cart.

A laugh, and Marvin extends a hand to his partner, who takes it with a smile. “I hate it when you’re right, y’know.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i decided to experiment by writing a oneshot that doesn't feature quite as much plot as the previous ones, and honestly, i thought it was kinda cute. as always, feedback is appreciated! :-)


End file.
